comfort food (a little burned)

camp. december 2012.

coffee on the beach

yuba river. september 2012.

tapas on monday

oakland. february 2012.

thanks, paula, for the cerviche! (a lively snack with a charming bartender.)

winter cabbage

camp. 31 december, 2011.

layers of purple leaves, dusted with frost.

good food is worth the wait

home. september 2011.

oh, foodie food food, i love you, yum! this started with, "i'm hungry and just want to eat so i'll just make a quick scramble," and ended with a squash, corn, roasted pepper, onion, leek, egg and squash blossom scramble, with avocado, and caprese and green salads on the side. oh, yum.

sangria and limes

home. september 2011.

my thirtieth birthday bbq. a big pot of sangria (strawberries, apples, oranges, melon, figs, brandy), a bag of limes, and a bottle of chile powder. you really can't miss, with those ingredients.

cherries

home. 2010.

hung down to dry

Little Fork Farms, Marin, CA. 2011.

local findings

Backyard. 2010.

I've kidnapped a local cat and have brought her to my room. I feel this is completely allowed as she was sitting on my porch, clearly waiting for me, despite the fact that it was raining out. So I toweled her off and will now proceed to snuggle her somewhere between a bit and to death. I don't have anything to wake up for in the morning, so I'm planning out lounging lazily, watching tv, reading, and snuggling.

In the interest of not getting cat pee on my things, I will likely release Mildred (the cat) before going to sleep tonight. She's grey with a white belly.

Oh, and this is a picture of a tall, gone-to-seed brussels sprout that is growing in my backyard. Taken at dusk.

A Mad-Hatter-Tea-Party Kind of Goodbye

Wonderland. 2010.

A Colorful Dinner

Cape Cod. 2010.

Dana's grandfather's house. Well, really it's Rosie's house. So much fun. One large octagonal room with four different sets of living room furniture and views of pounding rain-lashed surf, off on the sand bar. A bay of quiet water winding around green hills.

Too Many Spoons

Medicino. 2009. 

Variety

Home. 2009.

I did my taxes last night, then went to yoga. Up at 6 to do more yoga, work at 8, evening meeting, home at 9. Yoga, work, and another evening meeting tomorrow. Bowling after work on Friday.

I'm so tired my eyes are blurry. I love being busy but hate not having time to myself. When did I stop reading books for big chunks of time? When did I start having to stay up late just to make time for myself?

In the midst of this, I find myself thriving. I love being busy--I'm so much more productive, on top of things, efficient. But effective? I'm not sure. I'm better at doing clear tasks, but do I have as many good ideas? I doubt it. Less time for day dreaming, dozing, doodling: I become less creative, more automatic, less considerate and deliberate and thorough. I notice less on my bike ride to work, and have a harder time telling someone what I'm working on. I just plow through.

Where is the balance? I always wanted a job that I liked so much, I wanted to take work home with me--but not necessarily to do so. I want to be engaged, firing on all pistons, but without the oil of downtime, it feels like I burn too hot and breakdown. Where is that fine line? How much motor oil do I need?